


to the moon and back

by icemakestars



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, Gen, Mother-Son Relationship, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29300724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icemakestars/pseuds/icemakestars
Summary: The love that Morag feels for her son knows no bounds.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	to the moon and back

**Author's Note:**

> A short writing exercise written for university a few years ago.

Benedek was five years and seven months when he first transformed.

Even at the time, Margo did not feel a sense of surprise; it was numbing, almost, the extent to which she was indifferent to how peculiar her son was. She loved him, and that was all that mattered to her. That was why, whenever a sheep went missing the farmer would wake up with a small bag of gold on his doorstep, and Margo was able to turn a blind eye to the odd savaged cat. She could not control her son, her Benedek, but she could love him and protect him; she could be a mother to him, regardless of what form he was in.

Growing up here, she had been acclimatised to the stories of the wolf, and the terror it caused her small, dusty village. Children born with this curse would appear normal until they turned six, when they first began to transform. Animals would disappear or die, children would be terrified. All of the children, it seemed, bar Margo. She felt sympathy for the wolf and its curse, wishing that there was something she could do to help it. Even now, when the moon was high and her spirits were low, Margo could only conjure a vague apprehension at being alone in the woods at night, and that stemmed from the notion of bears and robbers coming for her, not the wolf; never the wolf.

Although she was not pretentious enough to call it fate, Margo felt as though her rapport with the wolf was the universe playing a cruel joke on her. She never hated the wolf, never feared it, never wanted to do anything towards it apart from ensure that it was treated fairly, and humanely. She also never expected that she, too, would continue the wolf’s legacy.

That was how she found herself in the forest that night. The wind was harsh, the fog thick, but still her body cut through it persistently, skin prickling against the cold and her own concern as to what she would find in the forbidden forest. The gnarled branches strewn carelessly on the forest floor grabbed onto the hem of her skirt, tripping her with their persistence. She heard the fabric of her dress tear under their sharp fingers, and yet she pushed on, determined to find her son before anyone else could.

There was a howl to the east, closer than she anticipated, and Margo’s pulse jumped into her throat. She could feel her body pulsating with it, knowing that how she approached her son now would determine how easily he came back to her.

Carefully, she pushed through the under bush, wincing as a thorn dug into her cheek.

She heard the growl before the russet fur of her son came blinking into view.

He was staring at her, teeth bared and coat raised in warning. Margo bent, never breaking eye contact with Benedek. Even in this form, his eyes were the same liquid topaz that she remembered from his infancy. She had always loved the colour of his eyes, and how they seemed to ripple with any strong emotion. At that moment, they were quivering pools of black and gold, daring her to come closer. Slowly, Margo extended her hand to the wolf.

“Let’s go home, Benedek.” Her voice sounded too loud in the peaceful serenity of night, and yet her son responded to it instantly. His ears shot back, growl transforming into a whine of desperation. He crawled forward, pressing his damp snout against his mother’s calloused hand.

The change was instant, and brilliant. White light shot from every aspect of the wolf’s body, and Margo screwed her eyes shut when she heard the bones begin to snap back into place. The high-pitched keens coming from the wolf broke into a terrible scream, and the human form of her son fell to the ground as the light faded.

He lay there, panting, for several moments, and Margo let him collect himself with the shards of humanity that he could find just after his transformation. He was naked and dirty, but that just made him seem more vulnerable to the doting mother; he may have been on the precipice of manhood, but the infantile way he curled into himself broke Margo’s heart.

Still, she hooked her arms under his, pressing him against her chest as he cried softly, knowing that she would need to piece his together before she worried about her own.

**WORDS: 750**


End file.
